


I Slithered Here From Eden

by GravityWhatGravity



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Sort Of, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, SuperBat Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 09:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravityWhatGravity/pseuds/GravityWhatGravity
Summary: When you feel an emotion right down to your core, a flower appears in your skin, immortalising it.Shamelessly inspired by Hide a Heart of War by RayShippouUchiha.





	I Slithered Here From Eden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [middnighter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/middnighter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hide A Heart Of War](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091886) by [RayShippouUchiha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayShippouUchiha/pseuds/RayShippouUchiha). 



> No warnings here, just boys being dumb.
> 
> This was a secret santa gift for the wonderful middnighter on tumblr!

The first flower Clark gave Bruce was a single blue periwinkle just below his right elbow. Bruce had felt the heat of it imprinting on his skin when he saw Clark waiting for him in a tiny coffee shop in Metropolis. Bruce had plenty of experience not betraying that a new mark had formed, so he waited through lunch, enjoying the sharp pang of caffeine a little and Clark's company a lot.

 

Of course, Clark wouldn’t have felt a mark in return. Despite their decidedly humanoid appearance, Kryptonians didn’t have flowers, or any obvious alternative. Clark mostly avoided suspicion by keeping covered. It wasn’t especially rare to not want to share your marks, though it was usually an indication of a rather sordid past. It was accepted that those with the deep pink petals of a Judas tree blossoms ( _unbelief, betrayal_ ) painted on their skin wouldn’t want others to face them.

 

(In a few months Clark would confess to feeling guilty about the ruse he’d been forced to create.

 

“People just- They don’t treat me the same,” he’d say, sipping his coffee, “Vanessa, y’know, the new photographer? She was raving about her forget-me-not’s yesterday and the second I walked in she stopped talking.”

 

Bruce hadn’t hesitated to reassure him. A man that had lost his entire planet would surely be covered in enough aloe and marigolds ( _grief, sorrow, despair)_ to warrant the privacy.)

 

It was a few hours later that Bruce checked for the mark, in the comfort of the manor. It was common enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about covering it up. There was no scandal in Bruce Wayne making a friend.

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce had flowers for all of the Justice League. A pink rose ( _friendship, grace, admiration_ ) on his chest for Diana, overlapping a ranunculus ( _radiant charm_ ) that he’d never admit to. Acacia’s ( _friendship_ ) for Victor, Arthur, Barry and, reluctantly, Hal. Geranium ( _true friendship_ ) had bloomed for them all, eventually.

 

Arbor vitae ( _unchanging friendship_ ) bloomed along his right calf after a night at the Watchtower with a panicked Barry, a week before his wedding after Iris had, predictably, been kidnapped by Star City’s villain of the week. Glycine flowers ( _Your friendship is agreeable and pleasing to me_ ) grew for Hal.

 

Alfred smiled every time he caught sight of them.

 

* * *

 

 

His mother’s hands were covered in moss, clinquefoils and wood sorrel, signs of her love for him. She had a habbit, Bruce remembered, of rubbing at her left wrist when she was anxious. There, Bruce’s flowers merged with his Father’s forget-me-nots. Martha had said it was because it reminded her of the people she loved the most. Bruce remembered watching the flowers fade under his fingertips as she bled out on the pavement.

 

There was a patch of marigolds ( _despair, grief)_  stretching from Bruce’s left hip to his sixth rib. They curled around torso, a sickly yellow, tickling against the centre of his stomach and his spine. There were studies and scientific evidence proving that so many flowers appearing at once would cause tremendous pain, but Bruce had hardly noticed.

 

It was only after his parents’ funeral that Bruce felt the burn on his torso again.  There, mirroring his marigolds, was a patch of rudbeckia and coltsfoot.

 

( _Justice shall be done to you_.)

 

(Martha Kent survived winter to winter with hard work and grit. She had a delicate sprig of Holly ( _domestic happiness_ ) on the back of her neck.)

 

* * *

 

 

For all Bruce kept his marks covered from the public, there was no such privacy in his own home. Dick would brush the honeysuckle ( _bonds of love_ ) on his hand over Bruce’s shoulder in greeting, pressing against the sorrel ( _parental affection_ ) that had appeared when Bruce had asked him to stay at the manor. Tim, who’s only marks from his parents had been the twin carolina  syringa ( _dissapointment_ ) on his ankles, had a similar habit to Bruce’s mother. It was a horrible tell for Robin to have, stroking the honeysuckle on his clavicle when he was anxious, but it was one Bruce couldn't bring himself to train out of him.

 

By the time Damian came along Bruce’s shoulders were covered with sorrel like a cape. Damien had, predictably, been jealous. After Bruce had returned from the dead he'd demanded that his father tell him about every mark on his body, despite the fact he'd known about them through Talia’s files and Dick’s stories.

 

Nobody, not even Damian, mentioned the Lily of the valley that had appeared on Bruce’s chest, right over his heart, when Red Hood had revealed his identity.

 

( _Return of happiness_.)

 

* * *

 

 

Meeting Clark for coffee was a regular occurrence, now. Gaining new flowers detailing their friendship was, too.

 

The Ivy ( _friendship, fidelity, marriage_ ) was a warning sign at best. It was easy to push it to back of the Bruce’s mind. It had bloomed on his right shin after yet another coffee date when Clark had looked up at him and smiled.

 

Still, Bruce was determined to ignore any implication of his feeling for Clark being anything but platonic.

 

The forget-me-nots kind of ruined that plan.

 

They were on a battlefield in a system lightyears away from home when Bruce thought _maybe._

 

They were cleaning up Green Lantern’s messes, again, fighting some sort of androids.  Bruce wasn't entirely sure what they were, only that they weren't sentient. Most of the league were fighting but they were quickly being overwhelmed while the waited for Lantern’s reinforcements.

 

Clark had punched a ship so hard a Bruce’s ship had been knocked off its course. Clark had flown up to the cockpit, stabilising the ship it his bare hands. Before Bruce had a chance to warn him a group of android had crashed into him from the side and sent him flying through the air.

 

It was only after the battle, when Clark was on the Javelin medbay heading back to earth, that Bruce noticed the cluster forget-me-nots on his left wrist.

 

He tugged his glove on and carried on driving.

Life after the forget-me-nots was...difficult.

 

Bruce was no stranger to loving someone he couldn't be with. For all Bruce Wayne and Batman collected admirers the people that caught Bruce’s affections were rarely...good candidates for a relationship.

 

Selina Kyle’s advances were obligatory, now. She’s wink at him in leather and Kevlar in the night, then point out a cute waitress over brunch. But when they were younger, still getting used to their mantles, he’d agonise over her every look. A young Bruce Wayne was very sure that Catwoman wanted Batman for the potential power she’d have over Gotham if she found a way to manipulate him.

 

(Years later he’d wonder how his life might’ve been different if he’d realised her feelings for him ran as deeply as his for her.)

 

He could never be sorry about Talia. For all the hurt and manipulation and bloodshed, without her he wouldn't have Damian. But ultimately, Bruce had an awful habit of falling for exceptionally dangerous, villainous women.

 

So, naturally, he fell on love with a man that was with epitome of _goodness,_ who understood the masks Bruce had to wear and why, and was adored by his family, only to find that his love wasn't returned.

 

The irony wasn't lost him.

 

Bruce could hide his flowers from those around him, but he couldn't hide them from himself.

 

“I missed this.”

 

Especially when Clark said things like that.

 

Bruce raised an eyebrow, ignoring the seeking in his chest. “Overpriced coffee and stale pie?”

 

Clark laughed, tilting his head back and showing off the long line of his neck. Now that- _that_ was what made it difficult. Accepting his feelings for Clark meant acknowledging just how beautiful he was. It was something he knew at the back of his mind - Clark has super strength, heat vision and he was the most beautiful person Bruce had ever seen. All things that could be useful on diplomatic meetings.

 

But now Bruce’s eyes traced the curve of Clark’s neck, the sharp turn of his jaw, and his hand twitched by his side, itching to _touch_.

 

“That,” Clark said, calming down, “that's what I missed. You, making fun of me in some terrible coffee shop in a city you hate.”

 

Bruce swallowed, trying to push a wave of guilt down. He had nothing to be guilty about, he told himself. Avoiding Clark was sensible. It gave him time to come up with a story, and to come to terms with things. “I don't hate Metropolis-”

 

Clark snorted.

 

“-there's some great business-”

 

“Like the daily planet?”

 

Bruce winced, “Low blow.”

 

“You tried to buy the company I work for!”

 

“And when you asked me-”

 

“You tried to do it anyway?”

 

They were both grinning now.

 

“It's not my fault you didn't-”

 

Across the table, Clark’s entire face seemed to shift. His smile dropped, dimples disappearing. Clark schooled his features back into a smile, but it was hollow. His eyes didn't sparkle the way they had when he'd was joking with Bruce. And he was looking at-

 

Oh.

 

Clark was clearly trying to keep his vision trained on Bruce’s face, but his eyes kept flickering to the collection of forget-me-not’s half hidden under Bruce’s shirt sleeve.

 

It wasn't a problem. Not really. Clark would skate around the subject, Bruce would stubbornly pretend to miss the cues and eventually Clark would given and straight out ask. Bruce would tell a convincing lie about how they'd bloomed for Selina when they met for dinner to share information but he'd chosen not to say anything due to the potential issues with their relationship. Clark would jump to try and convince his friend that the risks were worth it, and write off Bruce’s sweaty palms and increased heart rate as a sign of his distress.

 

That was how it was supposed to go.

 

The moment of silence had gone on too long, but Clark didn't seem to want to break it. There was something on his face, something Bruce couldn't quite describe.

 

“Clark?”

 

Clark’s gaze snapped to Bruce’s face. “Who?”

 

It wasn't said as a question, more as a command.

 

Bruce let his face shut down into a painting of neutrality. Clark would believe that it was because he was uncomfortable.

 

It wasn't exactly a lie.

 

“I don't want to talk about it.”

 

“Bruce.” Clark’s face was guarded but fierce and almost...angry? It was almost impossible to reconcile with the man that had been laughing a few minutes before. It didn't make sense. Didn't fit with how Bruce had thought he'd react. It was almost like-

 

Stick to that plan, Bruce.

 

“Last week, during dinner with Selina-”  Clark sucked in a sharp breath. There was something about his expression that made Bruce _wonder_ . Something that looked like...possession?   _Jealousy_?

 

Bruce dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his head. It couldn't be.

 

“Clark…?”

 

Clark was half-way across the cafe by the time Bruce finishes calling his name. It was too obvious, the use of super speed,but Bruce couldn't bring himself to care about anything but the possibility that Clark was upset.

 

Bruce rushed to follow him, pausing only to throw some money down in their booth to cover the bill.

 

By the time he caught up Clark was stood in an alcove to the side of the cafe. Bruce automatically checked the sight lines. It was relatively secluded, tucked away from civilian traffic. Unfortunately, that made it ideal for Clark to fly away.

 

Clark clearly had the same idea. His hands were on either side of his open shirt, exposing the ‘S’ beneath.

 

“Clark?” Bruce called again.

 

Clark turned, hands dropping by his side. “Bruce.”

 

Bruce sucked in a breath. The winter air was cold. “Are you okay?”

 

“Is there any chance I can pass this off as an emergency?” Clark sighed.

 

“Well, not now you've said that.”

 

Clark laughed, and for a second Bruce could imagine they were back in the cafe a few weeks ago, before Bruce’s flower had sucked the sparkle from his eyes.

 

“It wasn't Selina.” Bruce wasn't sure why he said it, but with Clark looking at him with tentative hope he couldn't regret it.

 

“You lied.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

Bruce swallowed.

 

“Bruce…”

 

Clark was edging towards him like he was a scared baby deer. Bruce wondered what showed in his face to make Clark so protective. Clark closed the distance between them, gently reaching out to grab Bruce’s friends where they were clenched at his side. It was almost funny, Bruce thought, how the situation had gotten away from him. His heart was racing, sure, but not from the lies.

 

“I don't have flowers. But I don't need to know that I love my parents or miss my planet. I didn't need them to know that I'd fallen in love with Lois...and I didn't need them to know when I feel out of love with her. And,” Clark paused, considering his words, “I don't them now to know…” He trailed off.

 

Bruce looked down,  considering Clark’s hand in his. There was a still doubt niggling in the back of his mind, but it was fading fast. He unclenched his fist, turning his hand to face palm up. His fingers curled around Clark’s, lacing their hands together.

 

When he looked back up, Clark was smiling.

 

There are a lot of things that Bruce could have said. It was sweet that Clark was so in touch with his feelings, really, but Bruce probably would have gone on for years ignoring his feelings for Clark if his feelings weren't imprinted on his skin. And honestly, being in love wasn't enough. Living in different cities in such different lives, with such different ideologies. The media would jump on the sudden appearance of Bruce’s forget-me-nots. It wouldn't take much to connect the flowers to biweekly _coffee dates_ with a small time reporter. Really, the whole thing was a terrible idea.

 

Leaning up to kiss Clark, Bruce couldn't bring himself to care.


End file.
